Post by tzinana on Jul 17, 2005 1:11:54 GMT
Knocking Twice On the Doors
By Richard Harrington
Washington Post
October 29, 1980
It's hard to believe, but there's a new album called
"The Doors Greatest Hits" (Elektra 5E-515). Elektra is
touting it as one of its major releases of the fall,
obviously hoping to exploit the success of the recent
Jim Morrison biography, "No One Here Gets Out Alive,"
which rode the top position of the paperback sales
charts for several months. At least the Doors won't
suffer the fate of Jimi Hendrix, who had more records
released after his death than before it -- or Sly
Stone, who saw his brilliant early work re-released
with a "contemporary disco mix."
There is still plenty of interest in the Doors. Two of
their albums, "L.A. Woman" and "Morrison Hotel," have
the trade charts; cable television is planning a "Jim
Morrison: The Man and the Book" special; and scripting
and casting are going full-throttle for a major movie
production.
The time seems right, but the problem with "Greatest
Hits" is that it's all sales technique -- Elektra's
ill thought-out attempt to provide a "definitive Doors
package." And the packaging is lousy. So what if the
back cover features a never-before-published group
photo? Where are the liner notes, where is the
context, the perspective? Why does Elektra claim to
picture the entire catalogue on the inner sleeve, but
then leave off the already existing (and still
available) compilations as well as the two
post-Morrison Doors albums? Is this a doors package or
a Morrison package?
What about "13," released in 1970 and containing seven
of the 10 greatest hits? What about "Wierd Scenes
Inside the Goldmine," a double album released in 1972
containing another two greatest hits as well as other,
lesser (but more interesting) hits like "The Wasp
(Texas Radio and the Big Beat)," "When the Music's
Over" and "The End"? What about the quad "Best of the
Doors" released in the mid-'70s? What we have here is
a revolving Doors packaging concept, the Resurrection
of the Lizard King.
What's unsettling is how dated the Doors' music sounds
today, how weakly it stands outside a context (like
the soundtrack of "Apocalypse Now") or at the center
of an incendiary rock-bio. The Doors always straddled
a fence separating the green grass of Top-40 success
and the asphalt barrens of underground legend. With
the legend less immediate, the music's basic pop
precaution stands out more clearly. The songs on
"Greatest Hits" sound surprisingly quaint and safe,
predating New Wave's directness and economy, possibly
inspiring it, but certainly not improving it through
hindsight.
Could poetry be incorporated into rock lyrics? The
songs on "Greatest Hits" render the question moot. The
mystic overtones of the one song approaching poetry,
"Not To Touch the Earth," are so against the grain of
the rest of the album that they stand out like a Door
thumb. What's more common are simplistic, sophmoric
lyrics like "Motel money murder madness/change the
mood from glad to sadness," or "Sidewalk crouches at
her feet/like a dog that begs for something sweet." Or
that ultimate heavy lyric: "Our love becomes a funeral
pyre."
And what about Morrison as the Great Shaman of the
Rock Revolution, the electric poet, the
self-destructing wordsmith whose compulsive obsession
with sex, deviation and death were at the center of
the legend? Almost a decade after his death in Paris
at the age of 26, he remains charismatic. But Morrison
may have been the ultimate semi-intellectual rock
poseur. He was controversial, extreme, fascinating,
revolting, never boring. The risks he took hardly seem
worthwhile in context.
Musically, the Doors provided a solid foundation for
his exuberance; last year's beautifully packaged "An
American Prayer" (where the band came back to life
working with recently unearthed Morrison poetry tapes)
attested to that. After all, it was guitarist Robbie
Krieger who wrote "Light My Fire," which catapulted
the band to success in 1967. But much of what's on
"Greatest Hits" is from the "Hello, I Love You side
(where the Doors blatantly ripped off the Kinks' "All
Day and All of the Night"). The eerie inventiveness
that owed as much to keyboard player Ray Manzarek as
to Morrison is missing here (but available on "Weird
Scenes").
The sad part is that "Greatest Hits" will sell like
hotcakes. Maybe only Morrison knew that when the
music's over, you should turn out the lights. Unless
you can ask $8.98 for it.
Posted by Tzinana
By Richard Harrington
Washington Post
October 29, 1980
It's hard to believe, but there's a new album called
"The Doors Greatest Hits" (Elektra 5E-515). Elektra is
touting it as one of its major releases of the fall,
obviously hoping to exploit the success of the recent
Jim Morrison biography, "No One Here Gets Out Alive,"
which rode the top position of the paperback sales
charts for several months. At least the Doors won't
suffer the fate of Jimi Hendrix, who had more records
released after his death than before it -- or Sly
Stone, who saw his brilliant early work re-released
with a "contemporary disco mix."
There is still plenty of interest in the Doors. Two of
their albums, "L.A. Woman" and "Morrison Hotel," have
the trade charts; cable television is planning a "Jim
Morrison: The Man and the Book" special; and scripting
and casting are going full-throttle for a major movie
production.
The time seems right, but the problem with "Greatest
Hits" is that it's all sales technique -- Elektra's
ill thought-out attempt to provide a "definitive Doors
package." And the packaging is lousy. So what if the
back cover features a never-before-published group
photo? Where are the liner notes, where is the
context, the perspective? Why does Elektra claim to
picture the entire catalogue on the inner sleeve, but
then leave off the already existing (and still
available) compilations as well as the two
post-Morrison Doors albums? Is this a doors package or
a Morrison package?
What about "13," released in 1970 and containing seven
of the 10 greatest hits? What about "Wierd Scenes
Inside the Goldmine," a double album released in 1972
containing another two greatest hits as well as other,
lesser (but more interesting) hits like "The Wasp
(Texas Radio and the Big Beat)," "When the Music's
Over" and "The End"? What about the quad "Best of the
Doors" released in the mid-'70s? What we have here is
a revolving Doors packaging concept, the Resurrection
of the Lizard King.
What's unsettling is how dated the Doors' music sounds
today, how weakly it stands outside a context (like
the soundtrack of "Apocalypse Now") or at the center
of an incendiary rock-bio. The Doors always straddled
a fence separating the green grass of Top-40 success
and the asphalt barrens of underground legend. With
the legend less immediate, the music's basic pop
precaution stands out more clearly. The songs on
"Greatest Hits" sound surprisingly quaint and safe,
predating New Wave's directness and economy, possibly
inspiring it, but certainly not improving it through
hindsight.
Could poetry be incorporated into rock lyrics? The
songs on "Greatest Hits" render the question moot. The
mystic overtones of the one song approaching poetry,
"Not To Touch the Earth," are so against the grain of
the rest of the album that they stand out like a Door
thumb. What's more common are simplistic, sophmoric
lyrics like "Motel money murder madness/change the
mood from glad to sadness," or "Sidewalk crouches at
her feet/like a dog that begs for something sweet." Or
that ultimate heavy lyric: "Our love becomes a funeral
pyre."
And what about Morrison as the Great Shaman of the
Rock Revolution, the electric poet, the
self-destructing wordsmith whose compulsive obsession
with sex, deviation and death were at the center of
the legend? Almost a decade after his death in Paris
at the age of 26, he remains charismatic. But Morrison
may have been the ultimate semi-intellectual rock
poseur. He was controversial, extreme, fascinating,
revolting, never boring. The risks he took hardly seem
worthwhile in context.
Musically, the Doors provided a solid foundation for
his exuberance; last year's beautifully packaged "An
American Prayer" (where the band came back to life
working with recently unearthed Morrison poetry tapes)
attested to that. After all, it was guitarist Robbie
Krieger who wrote "Light My Fire," which catapulted
the band to success in 1967. But much of what's on
"Greatest Hits" is from the "Hello, I Love You side
(where the Doors blatantly ripped off the Kinks' "All
Day and All of the Night"). The eerie inventiveness
that owed as much to keyboard player Ray Manzarek as
to Morrison is missing here (but available on "Weird
Scenes").
The sad part is that "Greatest Hits" will sell like
hotcakes. Maybe only Morrison knew that when the
music's over, you should turn out the lights. Unless
you can ask $8.98 for it.
Posted by Tzinana
